


Taxi - Green

by Vad



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Character Death, Crossdressing, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Headcanon, M/M, Original Character(s), Religion, modern dalish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-10-24 19:53:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17710538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vad/pseuds/Vad
Summary: Just posting this for a friend so i dont spam the chat with my ramblings. we have been playing DDADDS and I had already written the sad prologue of my OC and killing off their soulmate. also going to add whatever scrabble we discuss in here as it goes. Just passing through with this.Valior remembers that fateful night two years ago and is ready to face a new neighborhood.ALSO a chapter just for his house being a living greenery and one neighborhood being plant-sitters or whatever. I did my best to not give that one any characteristic so they can be anyone one of the DADs





	1. Taxi - Green

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkShadeless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/gifts).



> still dont have anyone to read through this and i write on my phone, may auto correct and notebook reign.

It had been a night just like this. Valior sighed, looking through the window, eyeing the street lamps in the cul-de-sac, clutching his necklace. It had been better if it had been a storm. Some rain. Just some bad weather that would add to the catastrophe. A something that would make those nights special. “it rains, just like that one time…”, something like that. But it didn’t. It had not even been at night time, it had been evening. A Thursday evening on a cold old regular November evening. Two years away and still the worst feeling clung to him like second skin: it was all his fault.

 

They had argued, over this silly thing he no longer could remember. It had not been important at all. Livius had worked overtime the entire month, barely being home in the weekends and it was grating Valior the wrong way. He knew it was a flaw of his own to be too suspicions, to be a listener and come with great advice to everyone but himself. His accusations was usually rooted and blamed back on that time Livius went behind his back to create an heir. It was not exactly like that, but it was not right. They should have talked about it. They should have been a team, but they weren’t a team back then and by now it felt like they were returning to that. But Valior knew Livius did not have an affair. Valior knew there was a big sale that needed to happen that siphoned every bit of life out of Livius to land properly. Valior knew it was just him being insecure and lonely. And he loved their Amanda more than anything.

 

It all went so wrong. He had called and yelled, angry because their daughter did not pick up her phone and not being home to meet their curfew. Worried. He had called, yelled and accused and demanded his spouse to come home. Right this minute. That was what had been said. And it was also his last words: right this minute. In such an angry voice. And he hung up. 

 

In hindsight, the worst part was that Livius had done just that. He had packed up his work and driven home for that cold dinner. Right on that minute. He had driven on yellow light at the crossing. Yellow light. Taxi – green he called it. There had been a truck guessing it was soon to be green so they did not slow down. The snow was wet and neither of them had the right tires. It had probably not mattered.  
Amanda came home first, sixteen and unhappy to meet her pops in a mood he had entirely created on his own. She wasn’t even that late. She fled to her room full of that teenage righteousness that convinces you are right and blinds you to everything else. Valior had attempted to reheat the food, but in the end he been too angry to bother. Instead he had watched the clock as a hawk. Deciding he would give Livius ten more minutes before he called again. Would fate have changed if he had called then instead? 

 

The ten minutes passed, he had called hearing only the reconnecting beep to the office. Anger had boiled over and he had slammed the cupboard he was at closed. Poor Amanda. He had called again. No answer. Again and again. Leaving messages that would make him bawl cleaning out the office. In the end the anger turn to worry, and suspicion, but Livius would have answered by then. He always answered that damned phone. Valior had begged Amanda to call him, perhaps it was just him? She refused, saying she would not be the middleman. Later she said she had called him and texted him. To no avail. By then it was already too late. 

 

When the doorbell rang far too late that evening, the dinner was done and Amanda already in bed, Valior stormed the door and slammed it open. Teary eyed, angry and ready to hug the man on the other side. But it wasn’t Livius. It was two police officers. Valior do not remember what they said, or what he answered. He remember Amanda walking out in her PJs asking what was wrong, he does not remember what he answered. He know both of them were brought to the police station, there was a rapport and when he heard the word yellow Taxi – green was the only thing he could think of. That and the smug sure-fire smile that always followed it. Taxi – green. He remember doing his best to not shake, to hold it all in, be strong. It might not be Livius. If it was not Livius he would forgive him for everything, he would be on his knees beg for forgiveness. 

 

It was a clean room, and more people he did not know or managed to register as anything else than shapes was there too. There was steel sort of bed with a blanket in the middle. There was a mention that he should be behind some kind of glass window for this, but it was broken now so this would have to do. They were sorry. He wasn’t close when the carefully lifted the blanket. It mattered not. The world shattered. 

“Nononononono-“ the litany of noes fell from within. The ground was gone. He fought to stand.

“-nononononono-“ it wasn’t Livius. Livius would not do this. 

“please, you promised- you can’t- ar lath ma-“ he was not supposed to be close but now he was. He could see the face of the man he loved, resting on a steel bed in a clinical room that did not fit him. The color was yellow, stupid taxi-green. The face was broken. They had tried to fix him but it was wrong. All wrong. There were see through plastic stitches. Sunken eyes. 

“Nononononono vhenan please, don’t-“ There was cheap foundation on his face, it felt like rubber. He was such a mess. He would hate it. “Ma halani, he needs his glasses! His glasses!” Those stupid expensive glasses were where they?! Put something expensive on when you are not feeling too well, he had said, it is a shield, they look at it not you. Valior could no longer keep himself up, tears, spit and snot covering his face but he could not stop and it. He had to hold Livius. “Where are your glasses?” He hadn’t told him he loved him today! He hadn’t said it yesterday either! Right this minute he had said, right this minute. He was so cold, it wasn’t right. “Nonononono-“

 

-  
Valior sighed, fighting against old tears that already did their best to spring free. The rings he wore around his neck feeling heavy again. As per tradition and custom he no longer wore their ring on his finger, instead he had both of them around his neck. He had always been a man of tradition, not as much religious, not until that evening. Oh, he had used teeth and claws to get his husband a proper burial. The Erimonds had wanted an open casket, Lavellans not invited. It was not happening. It was a race, a horrible demeaning race against time and decomposition. But he won. He held a proper funeral, Erimonds invited but they did not come. They held their own service, empty casket.  
By tradition the body was burned and used to nourish a tree in a forest of souls. A beautiful dove-tree. Perfect. One tree in the forest of souls known for beautiful flowers and not much else. Livius would have laughed. And there was plenty of space next to him.  
Valior still saw himself as married, even with “until death does tears you apart”. Livius was still with him. Every time Amanda stressed over what to wear, because with her whole closet full she did not have clothes to wear. Every time she would turn slowly with that knowing grin that she had him cornered. Every time she smiled. She had the same shallow dimples. She was growing up so fast. They had just moved here, and she was already ushering her pops to get friends. It was true he had locked himself in. Perhaps spent too much time visiting the tree. But it should not be Amanda`s place to care for him, it should be the other way around. There was a lot of shoulds. This new start will change it, he would get friends, be social and limit visits to the forest to sermons on Tuesday. He could do that. He would do that. And perhaps the weight around his neck will feel less heavy as he does. “Mir ‘vhen lath vir suledin, Livius”


	2. Guest

«Hey, ma serannas! I mean thanks for the favor! I have little flags in every pot so just follow the color chart on the fridge and you know which ones to water.” He had laughed, but it had turned out true. Turning the key and enter the Lavellan household for the first time, had been a shock. The house, on the outside, looked as normal and picture perfect as a stamp. Straight cut lawn, simple, trimmed bushes underneath the windows, the occasional trellis up against the wall with beautiful wisterias blooming. On the inside however, there was a forest. Pots and plants, literally everywhere. Hanging from the ceiling clay pots with leaves climbing out. Small trimmed trees with slick stones, ivy hugging the shelves. It was like stepping into a greenhouse. 

 

“I might return a little earlier. It is not that important, I’ll text you.” The whole house was odd. For starters there as a sign offering slippers for visitors because this was a “no – shoes- household”, books upon books lined up vertical instead of horizontal. The floor covered with carpets and mats. In the beginning, he had made use of the slippers, but it did not last long, soon it was just routine to kick the shoes off and enjoy the soft threading around the house. Of course, there had been a happy note upon the kitchen fridge with color-coordinated instructions, along with a calendar announcing his arrival as part time house sitter and gardener, some scribbled down recipes and pictures of Amanda.   
“Now don’t be afraid to text or call me should you wonder about something. I know it is a mess.”

 

The thing was, it was not really a mess. It was just unusual. The kitchen for example, was a lovely kitchen with vegetables growing in the windows, herbs potted over the sink. One just had to overcome all the stacked bottles and flasks labeled with stuff like: Cricket flour, violets, death root, white rose, elf root and crystal grace. That last one he was sure had to be some kind of drug, even with google telling that it was a medical plant for poultice. Well, weed was also medical! He had not found that batch yet in the kitchen. But the house in itself was not messy, it was… cozy. With a whole lot of little flags and labels. One got used to it fast. And with the owner gone for two weeks he had found himself falling asleep upon the brown and green patterned sofa, so soft it consumed you and you had to fight to get up. He had also figured out that not only was the TV bigger than theirs but also fully adorned with classical video games. Nice. 

 

It was such a happy, lively home. Even with no one being there, with the plants (and that big fish tank in the living room). It was almost alive on its own. Now he was reminding himself of their last conversation, standing bare feet in the entrance, because now it seemed like the whole house held its breath. 

 

There had been no text, no call, but by the looks of it the owner had returned home and the whole mood of the house had changed. It had rained pretty hard last night and the soft carpet had been throttled down with mud. A bag slung over the rest of the shoes. A coat thrown over the railing of the stairs to the second floor, and those offending footsteps trampling further up. 

 

“It is just some family business, you know, relatives. I might surprise Amanda on my way back, just to embarrass her. I’ll bring my best flip-flops.”

 

Should he leave? It was obvious the owner was home. It could not be Amanda. Or maybe? It was perhaps better to be sure and check? mind made up he ascended the stairs, no idea to why he was doing his best to be sneaky. He was allowed to be here. There was a voice, no voices, static and crackling voices. Like they were too tired to speak. Swirls of green paint upon white walls seemed threatening instead of welcoming when standing on top of the stairs. White and changing light streamed out from what he had assumed was Valior’s bedroom. The light teased the shadows, making them creep from the corners and draw the walls with them, the mud leading straight to it. He was allowed to be here. A thrilling child’s laughter cut through the voices, followed by a birthday song. 

 

The door should have creaked when it got pushed all the way open, but it did not. The room was a mess. Clothes thrown upon the floor, blinds pulled down but crooked, and laying upon the bed, hugging the bolt blanket and pillows was Amanda’s father. This was private. But the birthday song grew louder and he had to see. Opposite the bed was a computer, the screen had been lifted and moved to the chair, the nest of clothes right under it upon the floor. Upon the screen it was a windows photo slides, the little arrow in the corner telling it was on loop. 

 

It was showing a dark apartment, Amanda just having blown out the four candles on her cakes. There had been a meager applause, with a very shaky camera, before the light was turned on and an unfamiliar man with an unfamiliar voice entered the view smiling. 

“Don’t spoil me, I am not the star tonight.” He was dressed in those sweaters you try to look smart with by having a shirt under, the collar peaking up. Dark hair taken up in a ponytail and a well-trimmed goatee. The skin just as sun kissed as the man sleeping in the bed behind him. 

“Oh, but papa you are always the light.” Valior’s voice laughed, shifting the view to a tiny Amanda with unruly hair with the biggest flower crown. “ Isn’t he?” Amanda laughed and waved her hands in the air towards the man.

“An’ imma moth!” she stood upon her chair, flapping her make believe wings. “Papa! Moth princess!” there was a serious look from the man with the dark hair towards the camera before a smile blossomed picking the newly crowned four year old up and holding her above his head as she tried to reach for him. Screen went black for a moment and Amanda was back again, now seemingly a little older standing on what is obvious a school scene. The sound was broken, and the camera not the best as it blurred and pixelated her as they zoomed in on her. She was singing? It looked like that. With paint on her face and long robes. There was a huge applause. And the screen fell into black again.   
It seemed to continue on, and it seemed like Valior was always behind the camera while Amanda and the man who had to be her late father was the stars of the show. A glance was cast down upon the only one of that family now living in this house. White light crackling upon a still wet face half burrowed into a blanket filled with black eyeliner and mascara, matching the mess on the face. He should leave, this was private. 

As silent as he could, he snuck back down, out and closed the door behind him. In the morning, he received a happy text thanking him for keeping the plants alive and apologizing for coming home earlier than expected. Family business resolved. Nothing else was mentioned. And nothing else was asked.


	3. Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short window to how I incorporate the dalish into this verse.   
> it is now an old religion, they were the people before but that was way back. now they are established, still does not have "their own country". Still lots of nomadic ideas and it is a favorable lifestyle. but now also a religion. All the gods are there, including fen'harel. language and words have adapted to fit the modern religion. 
> 
> still not beta'ed. and still on my phone. notebook and auto correct go!

There was the slight buzz of moving and talking outside the chamber. The usual hustle and bustle with setting up the Aravel for tonight’s service. A smile pulled at Valior enough to make him stop the applying of makeup to collect himself again, now was not the time to be musing over the adaption of literal historical objects to fit in a modern version of religious life. Today there would not be many of dalish that knew that their word for house of prayer actually came from the wagons their people once lived on and by. Probably the same amount of people who were “true” dalish by blood, a selective people. Valior thought it an disgusting idea, not lending any believe that all might gods creators of the world would give two shits about who you had sex with and who your parents were. Ultimately, they would be your all-top grandparents or something. 

 

Sighing, nothing got your mood down faster than racism, he leant forward towards the mirror to apply the facial tattoos. In the old days they would be actual tattoos and not just donned by priests or Keepers, and as much as Valior saw himself as traditional he had held out on just that. The excuse being it could cause difficulties for traveling abroad and he should do go through with it when he was old enough. Damn, he was old already wasn’t he? There had not been much travel, but that one time to Italy. He should travel more. Broaden those horizons. Meanwhile! The wonders of the modern day meant he could apply Vallaslin in honor of Dirthamen perfectly without actually getting needles in the face. The god of secrets should be happy that very well every other inch of his body was inked and even that didn’t make him into the cool dad. 

 

The dusk fell close and they would soon be ready. It was Tuesday, so the sermon fell at twilight, starting at day and ending at night. Die-hards could argue the important matters of afternoons and evenings, while the rest of the folk just took notice that it was for two gods that service instead of the usual one god. It was something that Valior truly loved with the dalish, it was open for everyone, every day. Each god held their own day, if you sought help to pass an exam or try find your creativity you would do best to come at Thursday, and those committed to June would help you out. Praying for a new start with your family or praying for someone sick, Sylaise would be there Friday. Just generally going to give a nod for the fellow dalish then Elger’nan would lead the sermon on Sunday. In short every day respected one god. With the expectation of the two brothers that shared and that one outlier who only appeared on holidays.   
There. Perfect. Now the rest of the dressing up was easy. One intricate leather robe, adorned with hallow white feathers, no sleeves and high collar. Linen pants with the largest waist belt, it should not be allowed, it was oddly comfortable though. Valior had joked about it when he had been a First, those who now helped set up the service and tested out the study to become a Keeper themselves. What would a priest need so much leather for? And all of it braided too. It was silly. It didn’t stop there either, there were leather braces up to ones elbow and long leg guards or whatever their ritual name was all the way past your knees. Along with all that there was the large linen shirt, his was light blue, and amulets. Valior wore two amulets besides the mandatory collar that looked like a glorified neck brace. Or crown. When Amanda had been six she had snuck in before a service and barrowed, stolen, his mentors collar for a crown. She had been Princess Queen Dragon, blessing all and everything with a two dollar plastic wand with star on it. The Mythal’s Keeper had been delighted, her father’s mentor not so much. It was all easily forgiven. 

 

Today was special memorial service, he had been asked to speak. Followers of Dirthamen did not tend to speak, their role was to be the listeners who heard you out. The shoulder to cry on. The one to yell to. The one who would hear out your range of emotions from happiness to sadness to show you were not alone and everything would be kept secret. On a shared sermon they would join the songs, order the collect and be a part of the blessings. Their other half would lead the sermon, hold the tales for the dead and preform funerals should it be needed. But today it was special circumstances. Today the two Keepers would lead it together. Today he would hold the tale of memories and keep his promise to spill the secrets and last will of the one who had passed. Today his mentor would sleep, burn and become a part of Vallasdhal‘alas, or forest of souls. Today Valior would become the main Keeper of Dirthhamen. Tonight he would promote his First from the Seconds. Tonight there was no going back. 

 

A feeling of somber settled on his shoulders as he pulled at the bobbypins holding his hair, one by one, placing them in the little box in garish peacock blue and every kind of sequin and two thirds of school glue. Another smile and a sigh, Valior ruffled the braids out before tying his hair up in a high ponytail closing it with the golden metal brace. Looking at himself he felt odd. He looked like a fully fledged Keeper. It was not the first time he was all donned up, but this was the first time without Saris. A knock on the door and in peaked the face of a serious looking Athrah’ihn.

“You clear?”

They would be a good with the opportunity to be act as a First. Test the waters. Right now, they were not as good at dividing work and personal as they thought. A skill one desperately needed as a servant of Dirthamen. One did not figure out if one is cut out for it before one tested it out. 

 

“Dirthamen lasa ghilan, da’len.”

“Ara seranna-ma, Hahren… ”

Valior looked down upon the small box, and then took drew comfort from the two added amulets around his neck. One locket in the form of a bear’s head with the picture of his all-eating daughter inside, and the set of rings. Yes, Athrah’ihn would be a great first. 

 

“We’re ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Valior was asked to read the will of his mentor, and therefor speaks in a service he normally would not be speaking. 
> 
> Quick breakdown.
> 
> Aravel is what they now call their church, it is kind of shaped like the wagons in DAI. The Aravel is open 24/7, it isnt a service everyday but each day is devoted to one god and you try to visit the day that best fit what you need help on because the high keeper (high priest) of that God will be present. if not their First will. 
> 
> Sunday – Elgern’an leads it, but on this day all the others are also in attendance. Morning service  
> Monday – Ghilan’nain, day for advice, introducing of the dalish, Midday services.   
> Tuesday – Falon’din and Dirthamen. The twins, they share day as one can not separate them. Funerals and confessions. Twilight/afternoon service.   
> Wednesday – Mythal, justice. if you need someone to see through your anger. Morning service.  
> Thursday – June, artist, creativity and education. Morning service.  
> Friday – Sylaise, family. Cure the sick. Evening service.   
> Saturday – Andruil. Business, sports. Evening service.   
> Fen'harel has special holidays. (basically at solstices and what we know as all hallows eve) 
> 
> the high keepers wears each their own keepers robes from DAI. the firsts wear the same just not with the big belt and large robe. their robe is more a jacket.   
> the rank is   
> high keeper.  
> first.  
> second. 
> 
> The keepers serves as a council.  
> I am being free with the elven language here. 
> 
> translations:  
> Dirthamen lasa ghilan, da’len. = Dirthamen give you guidance, child.   
>  Ara seranna-ma, Hahren… = sorry elder. (it was said in the tone of 'scuse me)


	4. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I honestly just wanted Joseph to stumble upon a dalish service seeing that he is not the only priest dad in the cul-de-sack. but i did not know how. still dont. also christianity is now the chantry. dont sue me

It gave him purpose. It was as rewarding as it was frustrating, always giving and always changing. Valior drew a silent breath past his lips, doing his best stone-face still. He liked working with people, people showed that we are all the same. Behind and with all our small quirks and tweaks people always looked for a place to feel wanted. To be safe. From his view at the brazier, he could see the many faces of those in attendance. The children restless and bored out of their minds, parents pretending to be invested while at the same time wrestle down their kids in attempted silence. Old seeking company and comfort. And then the handful sitting there praying for something more. one never knew which one of them would bolster their courage to approach him and share their secret, but there was always one. 

 

As high keeper of Dirthamen Valior had to be in attendance at every sermon on Tuesday and every major service where he either represented Dirthamen as one of The Nine or special occasions happening in the community that called in for extra presence, most often tragedies. As it was Wednesday today the leader of the sermon was the high keeper of Mythal, or Mrs. Diane Tarvhenir as she was called when not in service. Wonderful mother with a hidden talent of knowing exactly where the misplaced temple keys were when lost and the precious know how to which box wine was the best according to season. He was here due to it finals in schools were coming up and while some people came in to pray to June or Ghilan’nain for help and advice, others just wanted to rant. And it was Valior’s job to hear them out. Perhaps nod them towards the right people in the community that could help them. 

 

As it were, he stood to the side of the center of Aravel. All the gods had their own brazier, or hearth. The coats of the keeper or the robes of the first’ showing which of the god they represented. They moved as the days went, the one in focus in the middle. Today it was Mythal, so he stood right by her on the right side. Perfect view. Perfect view to spot a man looking very out of place. A man with short, but fluffy, blonde hair. A shocking pink shirt and a light blue sweater over the shoulders. What was Joseph Christiansen, the Chantry minister and also a neighbor doing here? Valior could not afford to stare, he was professional and now he was not “Valior, the awesome father to Amanda Ann Lavellan, also best neighbor”, he was Valior the High Keeper of Dirthamen.

 

Joseph sat through the entire service, and stood in the back while the people approached Dirthamen’s servant to speak. He waited the entire time. Within this there Mrs. Diane had met Valior’s eyes and given a nod towards the back. it meant Valior would be closing up and bring the keys for the nightwatchers. Even when the last confession left, Joseph still stayed. Finally did Valior let himself lock eyes with confused looking youth minister, but he did not leave his brazier. 

 

In the end curiosity must have won because Joseph approached the still lit brazier. 

“You are not leaving?”

Keeping his stoneface, Valior just shook his head but decided he could breach his silence to explain, lest they stand there until morning. “Andaran atish’an. No, I stand here until all has left. Do you wish to share what is on your mind? My lips are sealed.”

 

“This is what you do? You, you’re a priest… of this?” Valior nodded, taking a wild guess to where this was going to go. “I would never, this is… Odd Valior. You don’t look right, I mean no offense of course. What is it with all this make up?”

 

He nodded again while Joseph continued. “What did you just say to me just now? I mean, why didn’t you tell me you too were a man of the cloth? It was a wonderful service though I shall admit, many in attendance. Is this some sort of witch religion? Again, no offence. Is it your fault some kid has painted wolfs at the last youth ball?” That had to be either Lucien or Ernest, probably both. A chantry dance full of pictures of Fen’harel was hilarious though. Real outlier indeed. But Valior did not break face. 

 

“So you take confessions? Right here in the open? No, box, or stand? “ There was a long pause between them. 

 

“Why are you not talking to me? I am so confused. I…” He turned to leave, and Valior bowed his head in response. 

 

“Dirthamen enansal, da’len. Ma lasa mala taren revas, ar tel’emma.” There was a small fear crinkling like crow’s feet at Joseph’s eyes, Valior wanted to snicker. “Thank you for your confession. You are not alone.” It was not exactly what he had said but it was the gist of it. There seemed to be a revelation dawning upon the face before him.

“oooh, the last confession. You were waiting for me, because I- oh, oh well. Erhm, thank you then, I’ll wait outside?” There wasn’t an answer, and that was an answer in itself so Joseph left leaving Valior to put out the brazier and pack up. 

 

The temple keys were exactly were Mrs. Diane had communicated that they were, alcohol rubbed off the makeup easy and as he stepped out from the back, no longer barefoot and dressed to the high skies in leather and linen Valior found Joseph again. 

 

“Welcome to a Dalish Aravel Joseph. You could have just asked me, or are you undercover?” There was mirth in his voice again. The mask was left behind. 

“Wow, you are scary in there.”

“I hope I come off as neutral as possible.” Valior had arrived by bike, but it seemed that Joseph had chosen walking so strolling around with a bicycle it was. 

“So the wolves?” it was obvious he was worried.

“It is a breach of contract for me to discuss anything of which you have told me while I am in service, I hold my work very seriously.”

“Ah, well let me tell you then. Someone have been painted green wolves on every banner we have, and after seeing your church I would guess someone of your flock has been doing it.”

 

“Joseph I cannot know the intention of every one of my people or… flock? And neither can you. I can say that we do have a wolf within our pantheon. Short story short, he stands for full freedom. Also does it not fit your shepherd idea? You can have your youths be sheep or something, make a play. Use your resources.”

 

There was laughter. “Good idea. I always pegged you to be andrastian.”

“We do share some familiarity, but no I am afraid I am quite certain on my path.”

“Well, doesn’t hurt to try! Wait, what familiarity?”

“We both have a woman going against the rules to get what she wants, we both have someone she held dear that betrayed her, we both have a father figure who-“ Valior paused, Elgar’nan was not depicted in as soft of a light as their Maker. “ Well, it is basically your idea just served in bite size sizes. “ 

“You make it sound like it is a dish.”

“It is, picture a tapas. Lots of small dishes tasting great. You might almost say they taste divine.” 

There was a big laugh and it seemed like the last strands of fear clinging on Joseph fell behind them.  
“Sure!” They were back at discussing the chantry’s youth ball. Valior could not wait to see the wolves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations:
> 
> Andaran atish’an = formal greeting to those not of the dalish/aka the clan/the people
> 
> Dirthamen enansal, da’len. Ma lasa mala taren revas, ar tel’emma. = Dirthamen blesses you child. Your mind is now free, you are not alone.


	5. Birthday party!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valior comes home after being away for his Amanda to throw her pre-approved and planned "girls only no parent allowed" 18 birthday slumber party only to find his house in chaos. 
> 
> This is just written as it went down, but i realized it would get too long so I got corners. there will be translation of this freehand new dalish in the end notes

There was chaos in the house. Valior sent a silent prayer to the gods, thanking them for the kindness of not setting it aflame. It had been a birthday party, one pre-approved 18 year old birthday slumber party that now showed itself not at all holding itself to the rules. He stepped over his own threshold. Locking the door behind him. Shoes off and then taking a president decision of taking one of the guest slippers for himself. Upon then floor, over the staircase railing and wrapped around his long-standing Japanese peace lily was toilet paper. The poor green leaves peaked through the paper, close to bursting out and at the top stood his flowers proud like little white antennas. Dangling from the ceiling, threatening to fell down was the smoke alarm, a pizza slice and what looked like what was once heated pelted reeses. With caution of an angry father, who also were a little bit proud, Valior rounded the corner to look.

 

Ah, the fish tank was safe. Upon the sofa however lay one and a half Emma, the other half-burrowed under the misplaced sofa pillows on the floor. There was another Emma hugging the carpet, still clutching the play-station karaoke mic all smeared with brownies matching her shirt. What was it people and naming their daughters Emma? Then again there was two Amanda’es living in this cul-de-sac, most be the times they were in. In a makeshift pillow forth protecting the fish tank slept Ernest and Noah, crowned with leaves from the creeping fig not one bit helping their disguises of not being allowed to the party as it was pre-approved as a “girls only night”. 

 

Threading carefully over pieces of various, random articles of clothing (mostly socks and his own coats pilfered from the hallway), crushed boxes of soda and sacrificed leaves from his dearest plants, Valior made his way into the kitchen.

 

Slumped over the kitchen table, fruit bowl turned over, sat Lucien (his hand stuck in the cricket flour container, his clothes strangely white) , Amanda T. (also sporting that dusty white) . And the gossiping one which he could never remember the name of. The table was full of cups and two, after a quick inspection, empty flasks that once held his homemade spiced dandy lion wine. The fridge was open. Tupperware filled with leftovers consumed and filled with brownie scraps. Some of it was also forced inside the little egg holders in the fridge door. Broken eggshells laid spread upon the floor in neat little circles, no happy faces. Broken little happy faces with marshmallows noses. 

 

Under the kitchen window stood a naked and ribbed oregano plant. The basil, sage and thyme had also suffered but not in such a way the oregano had been destroyed. 

In the kitchen sink lay what was probably the culprit for all of this and it being in the sink , probably the reason to why the house was still standing. On the counter lay matches and, now empty, containers labelled elfroot and death root. What was in the sink was the brazier from the downstairs altar. In it was the ashen remains of elfroot and the, expensive as all hells, death root. Another prayer was sent, at least someone had had the smarts (that better be Amanda) or the luck to douse down the death root with elfroot. There was now a bunch of kids sleeping off a high in his house instead of puking, with eyes itching along with the worst possible headache.

 

It was obvious. They would have move. Change name. Right after apologizing to several parents. Hugo was going to kill him, right after Maxwell had straight up murdered him. He was so dead. Amanda would become an orphan and would never host another birthday sleepover. Where was Amanda Ann Erimond Lavellan?

 

Valior knew exactly where his daughter was. Straightening his back he turned to head up the stairs. Here too there was toilet paper and colorful wet mnms covering the floors. All but one door was open. Amanda’s room. He had to stop to flush the toilet and close the still running water from the sink. Without a sound, he opened the door, and on her bed, still fully clothed was his daughter sleeping in her own shallow peace. That little fiend. Closing the door, he pushed off the pile of, laundry she always waited to the last minute to put in the laundry basket, brought the chair to her bedside and drawing open the curtains before sitting down. 

With daylight it didn’t take too long for her to stir.

“Aneth ara Amanda, melans' las ma hamin?” he kept his voice soft, waiting for her dreams to pass on.

One dozy eye cracked up, greeting him before she burrowed her face further into her pillow. “Pops? Garas quenathra?”

“Oh, ir tel‘hara atish la fenim, da'fen. Ma tarin tel'hera mar taren dirt sahlin Melav’anshiral var vhenas?” The soft little bolt seemed to freeze and curl up at the same time. Valior knew it was cruel of him to be so demeaning, but he was really rather pissed off. At least she had not been harmed. 

“Ir abals pops... ir- ” 

“Na tel'abals da'fen, mar solas Las’him. “ his voice dripped with sarcasm and disdain, he knew she knew very well what kind of trouble that had happened yesterday and just how badly it could have gone, the least she could do was to sit up and face him. “Ar dirt’nadas ma fen'harel enansal ar'hanin.'” 

“ Halam’nas tel'halam, pops!” finally she found the energy to sit up and look at him. Probably as angry as he was.“Vora bana din'tan, ar dirt'shiv halani!” Clever girl, so it had been her with the quick thinking. But he could not show how proud he was, as a father he needed to let her know just how terrible it could have gone. She had used the argument that she was an adult now to be able to handle the responsibilities to host the party. The hardest adult lesson is to apologize. He had to be stern, but there was no malice left in his voice.

“ma dirthera, da'len, harillen mi' dirthaveren. “ it was obvious that it struck her. The anger deflating with her shoulders. It crushed his own heart, he knew he was no longer angry. All things considered, she had done the best she could come up with by quick thinking. Which was in itself a wonderful skill to have. Now all she needed to do was... Valior continued, throwing her the lifeline: “Ma, mir vhenan ghilan'him banval'vhen...”

“Ir abalas ma papa, ir abalas. Ir tel'him, las ghilan...” how could he stay mad looking at those sorrowful eyes? He could not, it was impossible. Standing Valior embraced his daughter, stroking the back of her head caring not that she was no longer the ten year old who was a robot that destroyed windows.

“Ssssh, sule'nehn da'vhenan. Ir solas mar shem'dir. Vir halani ghilana abalas vhenallin?” He held her because 18 year olds could not be seen crying, even if that happen just last week and apparently it did not help that her father could start crying any number of times a day by as simple things as cactus plant being a late bloomer. … That cactus was probably another sacrifice of the night. 

He learned through sighs, that one Emma R., the oldest friend one, had invited Noah. And Amanda had not been able to say no because that would ruin the mood of the party. Then Noah had not wanted to be alone as the only guy and invited Lucien who had hung out with Ernest. They were planning to take out the cake and as she had put on the final touches of marshmallow decorating (a very grown up cake it was) someone had gotten the rad idea to burn grass. She did not exactly know what they had burned first but they had said grass. Then someone had yelled for how cool death root sounded and thrown all of it into the brazier they had indeed pilfered from the “creepy" cellar. At which point Amanda had remembered elfroot and emptied the entire container much to everyone’s delight. 

She did not remember much more, it was hazy. But the eggs in the fridge had given the most helpful solutions to math problems, though remembering that wisdom was hard. She had written some of them on her arm, but seemed to be a poor rendition of a horse with fireball shoes.

Lucien had taken a sword to a dragon, also known as the broom and the smoke alarm. Lucien had slayed all the dragons. Noah had wanted recognition for his conquests of the brownie plate, which was quickly reclaimed by the warrior space executive Amanda T with the use of the void, actually the freezer. It had escalated into a civil war, Lord Noah, empress R Emma and officer Ernest taking the living room. Amanda had rescued the wise eggs from the tax invasion from Emma P. 

Warrior space executive Amanda T, had crowned herself the ruler of kitchen along with Lucien the dragon slayer, honorary sage (the herb) Amanda and Christmas courier Janet (that was the gossipy one!). Christmas courier Janet had wanted to become a super star but Emma R. Had already announce Emma P. “The icon of future songstress of the balm” and that was how the war of reeses and pizza broke forth. The space dragon clan assumed they had lost their rivals who were once their friends and drank the wine to quell their sorrows. Noah had been drinking from lake fish and- 

Valior mused, now starting to draw a pretty clear picture to just how his house had been assaulted. 

“Amanda? I will be the first to admit I am proud of your quick thinking when it came to the elfroot , however... at what point did you stop to think that the brazier was in the sink and if you had open the tap the flames in the kitchen would be gone?”

The pause was amazing, Valior refused to give his daughter any ground to flee too any more than Noah and Ernest had given fish Brian while they drank from the lake. 

Amanda mimicked a shocked and confused fish Brian perfectly .  
“Ehm...”

“Next time, you do that. Next time you call me before all the dragons in the ceiling gets knocked down.” She nodded. “Also need you to help me to wake your friends carefully. Make sure they are alright, and that they don’t leave.” Again a nod, a hug and they got to work .

 

Watching his daughter out the door Valior was left with the important decision, should he be the cool dad and let the kids go home or- no it wasn't right. He had to call. The boys first, they were not supposed to be here their parents must be worried out of their mind. With a guilty twinge Valior called Noah’s mother first, explaining that her son had been sleeping in the living room for the night and was safe but probably wanted someone to follow him home. Valior had been just to offer to drive him home himself when he got the response of her coming right away. Some reassurances after it was the dreaded call to Hugo. 

 

“Valior!” the voice held panic. “Have you seen Ernest? He didn’t come last night and I called the police but you have to wait two days to be allowed to report him missing and -"

“I have! I have! Hugo he is safe. He got impulsively invited to Amanda’s birthday party without me knowing last night. He built a pillow fort and slept in the living room. I’m sorry.”

“Oh thank God. “ Even over the phone Valior could sense the relief wash over Hugo. 

“He is a bit tired, and I think he lost his phone in the fish tank.” It sounded like Hugo was out or driving, Valior made the decision to not mention the experimental drugs lest the man would take a sharp turn and crash into something. First priority was to calm Hugo down. Nothing was actual wrong or dangerous anymore and calm people did not do stupid things in traffic. 

“I called so many times.”

“ir abalas Hugo, forgive me. Forgive him” the other line held a pause that was relief suddenly becoming concerned again.

“what did he do?” Shit! Okay, Valior knew how to omit this in a good way!

“Beside drinking from the fish tank and feeding my plants pizza? It is better to talk face to face, so he doesn’t feel attacked. He didn’t do anything illegal. Try to relax. Its okay.”

“Could you watch him a little? I need to drive back home.”

“ Of course. Wait where are you?”

“ Greenfield.” That was the town an hour away east, also where Hugo’s ex lived. Valior could just go ahead and tie the noose himself.

“Of course I will watch him, breakfast and everything.” As soon as that was said Valior remembered his eggs been smothered upon the kitchen floor and the fridge itself had stood open since probably yesterday. Oh this was terrible! Ernest would also probably bolt the moment he realized what kind of trouble he was in. Pocketing his phone Valior did his best silent dad walk downstairs, catching his daughter just as she were to nudge Hugo’s boy awake.

“Ssssh don’t!” it was an urgent whisper. “Hugo is coming and I don’t him to murder me because his son is gone.”

“But pops!” 

“You were the responsible adult here, let him sleep. Where are the Emmas and Noah?”

“Kitchen. Trying to get Lucien out of the bowl.”

“Ghilan’nain mir ghilana”

“Pops don’t be so dramatic.”

“it is pizza in my ceiling and three teens in my kitchen covered in crickets Amanda I am allowed to be dramatic.”

The kids were indeed in the kitchen holding and pulling on Lucien as if they were re-enacting that scene from Winnie the Pooh, with Janet playing the helpful part of a sleeping Eeyore. Valior left his daughter too it and decided to make the next dreaded call in the living room. 

It took some of those extra-long minutes before there was any answer from the other side, plenty of time for those nerves to set in. 

 

“Hello”. Oh, by the sound of it Maxwell was still asleep. Poor man. Remain calm Valior all is fine. Perfectly fine. 

“Aneth ara, Max. If I am waking you too early ara seranna- ma. Erhm how are you doing?”

There was a pause on the other side before. “What? I mean hi. Wait Valior?”

Oh that was just great wasn’t it? Yes, Valior great adulating forgetting to present yourself and talk dalish to someone who does not speak it. Brilliant! Great start! “Hi! Yes, its me- “

“What happened?!” Oh dear, that was exactly the reaction he had tried to avoid.

“Oh, what happened? The party yesterday might have gotten a little out of hand and when I arrived this morning everything was covered in toilet paper.” Again not untrue, only the easy stuff first. Play it casual, be cool dad. “So that’s cool.”

“Also the kids might-“ How deep was he to dig his own grave? It was better to just lay flat. “Shit. The kids experimented with burning plants and herbs of mine and the smoke from that made your daughter high enough to claim my kitchen as outer space and she might have cut her hair somewhat, eh, how do you say, unlucky?”

It wasn’t bad, if she had her hair up and without marshmallows one probably wouldn’t bat an eye to her newfound passion for the asymmetric. “ Unfortunate? But she is fine! A little tire, no worse for wear.” After a shower and some major hair brushing he gathered. “it was just the one side she cut anyway. “ 

Valior lowered his voice to hushed tones while words tumbled out of him, “ She also does not know she might have eaten grounded up insects. Perfectly clean and healthy crickets! Flour! She may, no she is covered in it.” That did not sound good. Valior was sweating. “ AT LEAST she didn’t drink Fish Brian’s tank water. So she has that going for her.” His shoulder sank. “I am talking too fast aren’t I?”

 

“…Maker. Is she okay?” Maxwell should get a reward for remaining calm after that onslaught. But finally there was an answer he could answer!

 

“Oh yes, yes! she is fine. Perhaps a little embarrassed and messy but she is fine.” There was a pause before he continued, he could hear cars pulling up in their driveway along with some very suspicious clutters of kitchen supplies. “I know, ehm, we literally live across the street but I think it might be best if you could come and escort her home?” Valior glanced out to his driveway. That was indeed Emma P.’s father and Noah and Emma R.’s Mothers. Oh, along with Janet’s dad. Oh boy. 

 

“Sure. Give me five minutes to find my most embarrassing pair of sweatpants.”

 

Mythal bless him. “Sure” Thank you for being so kind. I’ll be more detailed when you’re here. The Emmas and Noahs parents are here now, I’ll see you-“ He didn’t even get to put the phone down before three very angry and disappointed parents were inside his house. “Hi, sorry about all this. They are in here in the kitchen, let me just, no keep your shoes on.”

\------

 

It was a mess. A lot of bowing and apologies from both him and Amanda. Noah was dragged to the car by the ear, Valior of heard of such ideas but never actually seen it. All of the kids with downcast eyes walking their walk of shame. Lucien had tried to sneak away during the strange session of guilt and relief, only for Valior to grab him by the back of the t-shirt.

“Where do you think you are going?” Maxwell had not arrived yet, he could follow Lucian over and catch his neighbor on the way back. 

“…home.”

“Yup. Go on.” Lucian just stared at him, waiting as he was still being held by his shirt. “Go, on Knight and fearsome Dragon slayer, to the great black castle we go.”

Lucien shrunk with a sigh and began walking across the pavement.

They did not even get to knock before the door was thrown open with Damien throwing himself at Lucien in an embrace.  
“Where HAVE you been? I was so worried I very nearly called the police! Why didn't you answer your phone? Lucien! What happened?!”

 

“Dad, I was just across the street. Lavellans had a birthday party and me and Earnest got-"

“oh thank the gods. Hugo was over here this morning- Lucien, you are covered in-”

“Flour. From my kitchen. I apologize for being so late with escorting him over Damien. I tried to call but I kept getting the busy signal.”

“Ah, yes, I was trying to locate- Lucien what happened to your hand?”

Lucien did not answer, instead it looked like he did his very best to become invisible. 

“Perhaps some grease to get it off, if not then I do not mind it being broken.” Valior smiled as Damien nod letting his son slunk inside. “I have to tell you some of the story here though. He got invited to the birthday party late yesterday due to another uninvited boy did not want to be the only one. It went great until someone, we do not know who decided to experiment by burning herbs.”

Valior did not know that the man in front of him could be any more white but Damien still managed to pale. “Nothing of what was inhaled were addictive or dangerous, they were very lucky but everything should be fine. Is fine. It gave them a high, where your son thought he was a dragon slayer and ingested a lot of cricket flour. I haven’t told him that yet, and it doesn’t seem like he has any allergic reactions. Just give him plenty of water. “

Damien nodded, looking torn between running into his house to care for his boy and also to keep his cool and get more information about what had happened. 

“I’ll come over once we find his phone.” The opening was grabbed with both hands and a thank you before the door was closed and Valior was making his way home again. 

He had only gotten past his own threshold before there was a polite knock behind him introducing Maxwell sporting the most comfortable sweatpants he had seen and some real down to earth flip-flops.   
“…Do you need a hand with this?”

 

“No, thank you. I am fine.” It was through gritted teeth as he eyed the leftovers mixed into his potted plants. “My daughter” he rose his voice so she could hear him. “Is a responsible adult!” There was a frustrated groan followed by yes upstairs. “and is helping me to clean this up. Starting with the bathroom. Your Amanda is in here.”

 

Amanda T had been relocated to what was left of the living room sofa, looking like a brownie loving lucky troll cosplayer with the amount of pulled and melted marshmallows in her hair, cake on her clothes and fingers and a light dusting of the same cricket flour Lucien had consumed. 

“Watch out for the pizza and reeses in the ceiling.”

 

Maxwell glanced up with another mentions of his maker, and turned to face his daughter. “Hey Manda Panda.”

 

“Daaaad” now that was a sound of embarrassment Valior could recognize. 

“Trying out a new look? You know, I think we have hair gel from my disco days, so no need to go straight for the sugar.” Ah, Maxwell was going for embarrass your daughter with your own life road. Valior could support that, leaning in to whisper. 

“Apparently, she is the space warrior executive, ruler of the black void and my kitchen.” Maxwell made a whistle, loud enough for Valior to continue nodding towards a still out of it Ernest. “We haven’t waken officer Ernest yet because I am afraid he will bolt.

There was a low, short giggle from Amanda T’s father making her squirm. “He probably would, he’s a contrary little shit.”

There was an odd shot of paint that squeezed his heart at that. He knew Maxwell meant nothing bad with it and it was wholly because Valior recognized too much of himself watching Earnest. But the feeling was still there. “That being said, your daughter might have consumed some of my spiced dandy lion wine. They do not remember who drank it. But the flasks are empty.”

“It’s just wine, right? No extras?”

“No, no extras. The wine itself does not have a high alcohol present either, I am just being the rat because I do not know your household rules of such and they were still all minors.”

“Yeah…” Maxwell squinted towards his daughter who did everything to avoid his eyes. “ Not that it can get much more extra than smoking… what exactly where they smoking?” 

Oh, the dreaded details. Come on, Valior, don’t drag this one out. But there was no use.

“I am assuming that it was all my kitchen herbs such as the oregano, thyme, sage and rosemary but the high would probably be from the mix of some death root and a waste amount of elf root.” Valior could see the incoming panic threating to grab hold of Maxwell when death root was mentioned. “Elfroot is, call it a soft weed but not addictive unless you digest it in large amounts and then raw. Secondhand smoking it, it negates the bad side effects of death root.”

“They got lucky, huh?” They had been so lucky. But there was no space in his mind anymore to focus on that and even less explain it to someone else. Not now. 

“I would recommend a shower to get… the marshmallows? Out. Some talking and lots of rest.”

“Yeah sure, the usual. Food or no food?”

“Probably after midday, lest you want a revisit from it. Elf root usually only gives you the worst cotton mouth.”

“Alright then!” Maxwell did a small little dance with his flip-flops to cross the candy and snacks mosaic upon the floor to get to his defeated executive.” Up you get, space warrior. Time to go home.”

“We haven’t found the board game she brought yet, but we will be at your door once we locate it. or put it in your mailbox, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, don’t sweat it.” Maxwell replied, looking like he was assessing just the best way to get his daughter back home.

Valior did a small sidestep, avoiding another incoming reeses from the ceiling, “Thank you. And thank you for going easy on me.”

“It’s all good.” It looked like he was coming to a conclusion. “ It is not really your fault, is it?” And then Maxwell proceeded with lifting his daughter and stride over the candy with the sound of cracks and squishes underneath him. Valior was just trying not to gape at them. 

There was a sour and tired sound of: dad. And just as they stepped outside Maxwell gave a knowing smile. “ For the record, if something like this happens and she gives you trouble. Call her by her full name.”

“Dad!”

“Yeah, we’ll talk when you’re off that stuff, Amanda Merida Contanza Trevelyan. Believe me.”

“DaaaAAAd!” 

And that was the last Valior heard of them, that morning. Not entirely sure what he had seen and gotten to know he simply waved and closed the door on automatic. There was a rustle behind him and, very slowly and deliberately did he rest his forehead upon the door. This morning would never end. 

“Earnest, are you awake?” The rustling tumbled and crashed into something with an “ow!”  
“How are you feeling?” Turning, he was greeted with a sight of a hooded teen looking like a deer in headlights. Fig leaves on his hair and warrior candy marking made presumably by mnms on his face. There was a prayer sent to his god for teaching him to hold face when he absolutely had to because he was certain that any laughter now would never be forgiven. “Come into kitchen will you? Let us see if we can scavenge something edible.” 

“I’m not in trouble?”

“Not until you tell your side of the story.” They were staring each other down. Valior was sure he heard the most famous tunes from Ennio Morricone in the background.

“You won’t tell my dad?” 

“I will have to tell him something. Your phone is in the fish tank.”

Ernest eyes went wide, before he backed down and headed for the kitchen. “Whatever. Fuck you.”

“Mhm.”

Within the war zone of the kitchen they managed to find some eggs, not crushed, hidden under the fruit bowl and some bacon from behind all the brownie stuffed into the fridge. Valior had not given two fucks anymore, taken a wet cloth and just showed all mess on the table on the floor before cleaning it, earning a soft “what?” from Ernest who had been set to clean out the brazier. That way he always had the opportunity of a glass of water. They did not speak. 

Picking a bag, all the food in the kitchen was thrown along with the biggest pieces on the floor. Supplies were placed next to the sink, and Valior was pleased when he noticed Ernest beginning cleaning them without being told to. A broom, first dry and then wet got the food away from the ceiling and finally gathered up all the flour upon everything. 

The herbs were very awkwardly placed back underneath the windowsill in a way Ernest believed Valior did not notice, at least it was not mentioned when he came by to gather rosemary for their omelet. 

“So… I’m sorry or whatever.” 

“Not to sound ungrateful, but that did not sound like an apology.” The bacon was in the oven, and their omelet would soon be done. They had salvaged some ketchup but there was no bread. It would have to do.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I do not know what happened.” Ernest had finished the dishes but did not turn away from the sink. 

“What do you remember? If anything.”

“We were going to play Jumanji so Noah and Emma R. went to set it up, we went to get some cake. Then it got odd. Amanda rushed to the sink and then it got really fucked up.” 

“I think we might have to re-edit some of the cruder words off when retell the story.” The eggs were done, and so was the bacon. All of it placed upon the table before he shouted.  
“DA’LEN!” and it was answered with the rhythmic trapping of Amanda coming down the stairs.

“Ah, this smells good.”

“Mhm. Ernest could you fill the pitcher with water and bring three glass? Amanda pick a seat.” Ernest looked as confused as Amanda looked pleased. 

“Ernest can you eat with sticks?” Amanda had that grin of her father’s. “Forks it is then.”

Ernest had brought the water but was hesitating to sit down, meanwhile Amanda had already stabbed four pieces of bacon on her fork. “You eat- no plates?”

“The place is already a mess, Officer Ernest, sit down and eat.”   
Amanda giggled at the name calling. “You better get used to that, it is pops’ specialty. Horrendous name calling.”

“What does da’len mean?”

“Child,” Valior interrupted. “but in a good way. Now grab a fork and eat.” 

Half an hour later, the food was consumed and there was a rapid knocking on the door making Officer Ernest shrink. Though it somehow solved itself without hassle, mostly by Amanda bringing her father to near crying by her heartfelt apology and Ernest using his golden card of calling his father the title of dad in his. 

Watching them leave was an odd feeling. Valior told himself it was because now this meant it was only the house left to fuzz over and he really did not want to assess the damage. “sulahn'nehn da'len, mar mana halani halam'shivanas: vhenas’an vir'all.”

“ugh, papa!” Amanda groaned, making her best drama queen re-entry to the house” Ma ghilana mir din'an!”

“Tel'na din'an sahlin! Mana halani Amanda!" And she did. They both used the entire day washing, cleaning, tidying, hosting small sacrificial send offs to the plants that could not be saved. The oregano being one of them. If one did not consider money, it was not much that had been lost. They fished out Ernest’s phone from Fish Brian’s home and put it in rice but it was no use. They found Lucien’s phone in the toaster. Janet’s socks were buried with the Japanese peace lily. Which left one item left to be desired. 

It wasn’t found before later that evening, the house as clean as it could be. Dinner ordered from the local pizzashop, with pineapples of course. Eaten while watching Sound of Music, probably an apology move from Amanda, but Valior did not mind. 

The kitchen was finally all clean and Valior decided that he could bring the brazier down before the commercial break of Paranormal Ice Road Truckers started again.

He should have gotten the clue when there was toilet paper in the stairs. Turning the light on, he descended only half way before he froze. There in the very end of their cellar was the Jumanji gave Amanda T had brought over. And it was placed in the very middle of the house’ altar, having taken the place to where the brazier was supposed to stand. Offerings, chalk, fur, horns, bones all were thrown around to make room to the big wooden box of a board game. The small statues of the gods had been taken down from their places and put down on the board as player bricks.

“AMANDA ANN ERIMOND LAVELLAN!! WHAT DID YOU KIDS DO TO THE ALTAR!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The I am so disappointed in you wake up talk, no directly translated but how I used the words available. Which is really not a lot of words so even this sounds odd and stilted:  
> Valior: “Formal greeting. Amanda. Has time brought you peace/rest?”  
> Amanda: “Pops? What are you doing here?”  
> V: Oh I don’t know the difference between peace or fear, little wolf? Perhaps your mind would tell you what journey it took last night to do what it did to our house?  
> A: I am so sorry Pops… - I  
> V: no, don’t be sad little wolf, your pride becomes you. You tell your inevitable tale and Fen’harel would bless and guide you.  
> A: it was do or don’t do pops! The urge of deathroot, I had to think fast!”   
> V: you told me, child, but with this rebellion you broke the promise. You, lead your family away.”  
> A: I am so sorry papa, so sorry. I’m me, please guide me.”   
> V: sssh. Away with your loss, little heart/darling. I am proud of your quick thinking. Together we shall help guide your sad friends awake?  
> -  
> Ir abalas: I am sorry.  
> Ghilan’nain mir ghilana : Ghilan’nain guide me  
> Aneth ara: greeting to close friends and family.   
> -  
> When Hugo leaves:  
> V: rejoice, child, you will help learning the sweet sacrifice of duty, our house will be washed.  
> A: ugh, papa! You will be the death of me!  
> V: not your death, you are only helping Amanda!


	6. Know this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another glimpse of the past, and proof that they did love each other and had pleasant moments.

It had been a long day. It had been Amanda’s eight year birthday celebration and the amount of preparation work, planning, mishaps before the very day and then the whole five hours it lasted… The two of them were exhausted. There had been birthday invites, with the drama about who to invite and not exclude anyone and then the expense of paper and Amanda`s sudden change of favorite Disney figure. The drama of that one family, after three years, realizing that Amanda had two fathers and somehow found out they had the right disagree with it. Scouting allergies from several kids. Baking, making goodie bags, drinks with a no-sugar included. Coffee and snacks for parents who wanted to stay for the duration. Decoration. A birthday event that was including. Praise be that the fishing for goodie-bags was still a cool thing, next year they would have to come up with something more clever… and hope that nine year olds didn’t scream as much as eight year olds did on sugar. Yeah. And then by the end of it Amanda had been so high on that exact sugar rush it had been near impossible to coax her to brush her teeth and then bed.   
As parents. They deserved a medal. Apparently, after hundreds and hundreds of years the government was still not handing out ‘you made it!’ medals for surviving birthday battles. They should. Cleaning up after the party had been a blessed, slow, silence. Walking, grateful zombies happy for it all being over. Now they were treating themselves.

 

Valior sat in his favorite corner of the sofa, a warm cup of tea (no one should drink tea this late, but tonight he did not care), hair out and down after a shower so hot it had probably boiled off his first layer of skin. He was a happy noodle. On his lap rested the head of his husband, he too with his hair down, washed (before Valior stole all the warm water) and indulging in being dressed his own favorite set of soft satin. Both of them bathed in the shifting bright light of a reality show neither of them paid any attention to, it was just a soft murmur of moving images that did not matter. Valior’s hand had found the soft black strands of Livius’ mane, combing through it while letting his mind still to blank nothings. The indulging of dress code to Livius was a tight kept secret. It had taken Valior three years to find out, even longer for him to have Livius believe that he thought there was absolutely no shame in it. How could he? His handsome lover all dressed up in the softest, sheer, sexy-ass outfits? Fuck yes! Yes, please. More.

 

Especially, laying all delicate and safe upon his lap. Looking down, Valior just watched. Watched the long lashes flutter through blinks, the calm flow of ups and downs as the body moved through the rhythm of breaths. Shimmering lights dancing from the television upon the long frame. Was there any wonder why he had fallen for this man? “You are so beautiful.”

 

It was but a whisper across his own breath, but it made Livius move beneath his hand and nuzzle up a kiss upon his thigh. “Praise me.” 

 

Valior threw his head back with a grin plastered upon his face, he could feel the matching smile meet him against his thigh because if there was anything that could match up to how much Livius loved feeling pretty it was hearing he was pretty. Looking down, he continued to stroke and pet the hair.

 

“You are the most handsome man I have ever seen. Your confidence radiates through you. You are a sun. Beautiful, so beautiful. You are a graceful and exquisite man. You-“ his breath stumbled in his throat. He had not meant to. Probably exhaustion. Yeah, not the oncoming realization of how happy and lucky he were. Putting the mug of tea on the side table, both hands were free to worship those luscious locks of dark hair.

 

“You are glorious. Hard working and drop dead gorgeous. Irresistible. I wake up to a stunning beauty every morning. You-“ the voice cracked again, trembling while he tried to catch and reestablish his breath. It was not successful. “A clever, the cleverest man I have-“

 

The voice broke, his lip curling and he was crying. There were rushed shifts of movements around him and he was being held. Those steel blue eyes all up close, big and worried. “What’s wrong?!”

 

“No no, I am sorry. I just-“ He had to focus to calm his breathing, tears streaming. Anchoring himself to his husband’s shoulders. “I am just so grateful.”

“What?” 

Tears blurred his vision, the flickering TV light casting odd lights across their faces. And that man in front of him was his husband. His magnificent, handsome husband in the house that they shared, in their living room after a large birthday party to their fantastic daughter. Tonight he would fall asleep next to him and probably kick him under the covers at one point for snagging too much of the covers. Tomorrow he would either wake up by that annoying alarm, the groan of complain before a smack to the snooze button or the joyful wake up attack from Amanda. Valior loved this man.

 

“Just, just let me.” He let their foreheads meet, he could feel rather than see eyes searching his face in frantic motions to assess the situation. “I know I talk a lot of shit, that I can be terrible-“

“ssh, don’t talk like you are the only one guilty of that.” It was a whisper with a voice that finally realized what was happening. 

“But know that I love you so, so much.”

“Sssssh”  
“So much. I’m so lucky for having you and so grateful. Okay?”

A kiss was placed upon his forehead. “I love you too, amatus.”

“Vhenan.”

“Now. I know both of us are exhausted. This reality show is going nowhere and we are happy for the fact that tomorrow is Saturday. So instead us of sitting here, I would much rather nestle up under the covers and perhaps tomorrow, if we are lucky, our little goblin would let us sleep a little longer. Hm?“ Valior could only nod at that. A kiss was shared, followed by a small moment of just being there before turning off the TV and going with the new plan. No more words were shared between them, following through their routines before snuggle up underneath the covers chasing sleep. It was safe, warm and pleasant. That cold tea on the side table all forgotten. 

 

\--

 

Valior was brutally awaken by super hero rooster Amanda and her wake up attack hug which was a belly flop upon them, mostly him, okay only him. The move had been instructed by whatever morning show she had been watching and while he thought the creators of that show should be murdered for that idea, he would not have it any other way. There was a loud groan of dismay, tired and hazy eyes watching them before Livius made an offended grunt and turned his back to them. Their daughter did the trademark slow Erimond grin before the rooster did another belly flop attack.


End file.
